


Some things last

by Elisexyz



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Making Up, Pining, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Jaskier had every intention of playing hard to get this time. At least, up until a minute after Geralt actually showed up.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 48
Kudos: 252





	Some things last

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tumblr prompt: ["I think people hug at this point." + Geraskier.](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/616938669252788224/i-need-7-geraskier-in-my-life-please) Ciri is just sort of mentioned, she's there but she doesn't play much of a role.

The first time that Geralt calls him his friend, Jaskier almost chokes on his own spit.

They haven’t seen each other since that day on the mountain, yet Geralt just comes up to him with his Child Surprise in tow and introduces him as ‘his friend Jaskier’.

His _friend_.

Jaskier somehow doesn’t burst out ‘What the _fuck_ , Geralt?’, managing to summon enough manners to smile at Ciri and invite her – them – to sit, but it’s a close thing.

He did it on purpose, of course. He knew Jaskier would still be mad, so he decided to try and soften him up by _finally_ admitting that they’ve left behind ‘casual acquaintances’ two decades and a few near-death experiences ago, whereas _before_ the biggest sign of acknowledgement had been that he’d stopped complaining whenever Jaskier used the forbidden f-word.

“This is my friend, Jaskier,” the bastard said, looking at him pointedly and ruining _every single plan_ that Jaskier had formed in his head whenever he imagined running into Geralt once again.

He was supposed to stay _mad_ , to be the one to play hard to get this time around – in the very unlikely event that Geralt would actually bother going after him, but, well, those were his fantasies and he’d do with them what he pleased –, make him _sweat_ to earn their friendship back.

He never really deluded himself into thinking that he’d manage to hold a grudge for too long, but this — this is beyond ridiculous, not to mention pathetic. Jaskier sees the child that Geralt actually took responsibility for – he’s a little bit proud of him for that, in spite of everything –, he sees the way Geralt _looks_ at him as he pointedly says _friend_ , and he’s — done for. All in, as always, because he’s all love and no spine.

It is no surprise when he gets roped into traveling with them all the way to Kaer Morhen, really.

(And by ‘getting roped’ he means that Geralt only has to ask if he’d agree to accompany them, and maybe stay the winter, if he wants. He pretended to think it over for a minute, just to salvage what is left of his pride, but, well. There are probably a lot of good stories to draw inspiration from in a place like that.)

It’s only later, when they are standing around, waiting for Ciri to come back with Roach, that he has reacquainted himself with Geralt’s presence enough to breathe through his relief at having been sought out and try to get back at him a little. 

Namely, by making him _talk_.

“So,” he begins, crossing his arms and waiting for Geralt’s eyes to land in his. “Is there anything you’d like to say to me?” he asks, pointedly, eyebrows raised with obvious expectation.

Geralt considers him for a moment, and Jaskier is pretty sure that he just saw his spirit leaving his body with the enormous effort that the confession takes, but eventually he says: “I’m sorry.” He pauses, grimacing slightly. “What I said — it was unfair.”

Jaskier nods, humming his agreement. “Yes — yes, it was.”

Silence.

Jaskier stares, somehow managing to chase a grin off his face, instead keeping up his best expectant look.

Geralt stares back, taking a breath. “I don’t _really_ want to be rid of you,” he eventually says, a touch exasperated.

Jaskier nods once again, keeping a straight face in spite of his growing amusement and the pleasant warmth in his chest. “Clearly.”

The silence that follows is once again pretty awkward, enough that Jaskier takes a look at Geralt’s beyond frustrated look, which yells ‘ _Please_ , what do you _want_ from me?!’, and he takes pity on him. Time to take him out of his misery.

“Oh, well,” he says, giving into the urge to let a grin surface and clapping his hands once. “I think people generally hug at this point.”

He’d like to make it clear that he wasn’t _serious_. He merely wanted to break the tension, let Geralt know that they are fine and they can leave behind the awkward apologies phase to jump right back into friendly banter territory.

He had _not_ expected for Geralt to stare at him for a moment, clearly taken aback, only to step forward before Jaskier could clarify that he is actually pretty satisfied with the verbal admissions, no need to add this — before he knows it, he finds himself engulfed in a surprisingly tight hug, which he reciprocates only a few seconds too late.

It’s really an excellent hug, which, um, _interesting_.

Also, Jaskier might be having a bit of a heart attack, judging by the peaks that his heartrate is reaching. _Then_ it occurs to him that Geralt can probably _hear_ that, which only worsens the situation, blood rushing to his face in record time – at least _that_ stays hidden in Geralt’s shoulder; small mercies.

This is a very stupid but also incredibly nice way to die.

(He might also feel a little like crying because he has _missed_ him and Geralt is a bastard but Jaskier loves him a lot, so this is — a great but _terrible_ situation, which of course he walked into all by himself. Splendid.)

“Uh. This is, uhm, nice,” he eventually manages to utter. He gives Geralt a quick pat on the back, beginning to pull away. Geralt lets him, staring him down and not looking half as flustered as Jaskier feels, so that’s great.

“ _Okay_ then, I’d say you are forgiven,” Jaskier announces, only to raise his finger in warning. “ _But_ on one condition.”

Geralt snorts, though the smile on his face seems very much fond. “What?”

“You are not allowed to complain about my singing, at least for, uhm, a week, I’d say.”

Geralt considers him for a moment, still smiling faintly. “I can do that,” he concedes then.

“Excellent!” Jaskier bursts out, feeling the weight in his stomach lift as he begins to fall right back into a familiar routine, at ease as he’s always been around him. “Because to be honest I’ve been working on this one song and I can’t quite put my finger on what is wrong with the lyrics — or perhaps it’s the tune, or even a little bit of both, _my point being_ that I will need to play around with it some more to —”

Jaskier keeps rambling, Geralt listens, and everything is right the world once again.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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